


And The Shitshow Must...

by loosenoodlepoodledoodle



Series: The Dustbin of History [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Political RPF - US 21st c., The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Trump Family Values
Genre: Absurd, Catharsis, Crossover, Gen, Horror, K-pop References, Multiple Crossovers, Parody, i think the tag wranglers were a little too zealous, it's because so many names are grouped under fewer tags that you can't find people easily anymore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:08:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25567972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loosenoodlepoodledoodle/pseuds/loosenoodlepoodledoodle
Summary: I'm so worried about the election...and instead of doing something meaningful, I wrote something meaningless because it made me feel good.
Relationships: Reader/Catharsis
Series: The Dustbin of History [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2007061
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	And The Shitshow Must...

**Author's Note:**

> Ugh.

It was January 20th, 2021, but still the nightmare was not yet done. Somehow, some _impossible_ way, Trump had sealed himself inside the White House, and would not come out. Massive white crystals crisscrossed the grounds, obscuring the interior entirely, and isolating the compound like a mockery of the Fortress of Solitude. The crystals amplified Trump’s own diabolical stupidity, attracting MAGAs like moths to a flame.

Their spittle formed a deadly miasma haunting the outer fence, further defending the Great Cuck.

Worse still, by some nefarious means of necromancy, Trump’s people had summoned the spirit of Antonin Scalia, using it to possess John Roberts, who now inexplicably argued that there could be no transfer of power if Trump was not present at the inauguration, and that if he somehow died, Mike Pence would become cuck-in-chief instead of Joe Biden, winner of the biggest landslide victory in American history. Nearly 100% of Trump supporters who didn’t turn on the Orange Fucker caught the COVID and died, or were otherwise incapacitated and unable to vote. No amount of Russian shenanigans could thwart the outcome; it turns out they couldn’t find anybody who knew how to program in FORTRAN either. Thus, the few thousand fraudulent votes the GRU cast were not enough to sway the election.

Now, Joe Biden hung out in a basement not far from Lafayette Park, awaiting the cabal of Democrats who had the guts to do something about this one, last mess. He wore his aviator sunglasses and leather jacket, and absentmindedly fumbled a modified, handheld sound cannon. He heard the door behind him open, and a set of footsteps descended the stairs. He refused to turn around, instead trying to look cool.

“Everyone ready, Bernie?” asked Biden. Bernie nodded, but since Biden couldn’t hear that, he was forced to turn around anyway to make sure he hadn’t suffered an auditory hallucination.

There was Bernie Sanders, decked out like Captain America and wielding an airsoft gun. Biden could just see through the tint of his shades that the gun’s paintball tube was loaded with rainbow pellets, exactly the sort of thing to drive the MAGAs over the edge. Biden stepped over to his old rival and extended his hand.

“Bernie.”

“Old friend.” Even now, Bernie couldn’t quite say Mr. President to Biden, but it was just as well. Everyone would get their catharsis soon enough. You, on the other hand, not being a septuagenarian who hasn’t seen a modern movie since the nineties, feel a sense of unease. The scene reminds you of Gandalf greeting Saruman at Isengard in the first _Lord of the Rings_ movie. The awkward handshake couldn’t possibly be foreshadowing a betrayal, could it?

The two old farts headed up the stairs and emerged in the kitchen, where awaited them the rest of the crew. Elizabeth Warren was decked out like Black Widow, not because she was particularly adroit or skilled with weapons, but because her ability to explain things was vaguely analogous to Natasha Romanov’s hacking skills. Kamala Harris was dressed like Scarlet Witch, because I’m going to make her say something that drives the MAGAs into a self-defeating frenzy. Corey Booker was the Falcon, and Julian Castro was the Winter Soldier.

There were no other Fake Avengers present.

“What, no one wanted to be Iron Man?” asked Biden. Everyone shook their heads.

“None of us are remotely like tech billionaires,” said Warren. “The closest thing to Tony Stark in the real world is Elon Musk. He fits the asshole genius role well, but his morals are suspect, as are his loyalties.”

Biden nodded. “Shucks. There’re only six of us. Wasn’t there another frontrunner during the primary campaign?”

The others all had to think for a bit. “Oh, yeah,” said Booker, “that other mayor. What was his name again?”

But as I myself couldn’t immediately recall his name while writing this, neither could our heroes. Milquetoast Pete just doesn’t make the cut.

***

They left the house and approached the park. Detritus was scattered all about, along with shit stains. The MAGAs had thrown their own feces at the anti-Trump protesters after the election. Ironically, by clearing them out in this fashion, countless lives were saved, as Trump’s Stormtroopers had been itching to hold a massacre. Now they had to spend their days down in the White House bunker masturbating to all the photographic evidence the Trump administration had “lost” in its bid to save Ghislaine Maxwell. Yeah, I totally went there, at this point there is nothing I would not accuse Trump’s jack-booted thugs of doing.

Our heroes formed a line across, and gingerly marched toward the outer perimeter of MAGAs. The fiends didn’t notice at first, being bent over with COVID and also suffering from vitamin deficiencies on account of eating naught but cheap delivery pizza and McDonald’s since November. And no salads, either! Joe Biden stopped the advance, cleared his throat, and held up his sound cannon to his mouth.

“I am _sick_ and _tired_ of these motherfucking _punks_ on my motherfucking _lawn_!” He mugged a grin at his compatriots, and they shook their heads in annoyance. Old Joe had gotten the wrong movie reference, but at least he knew who Samuel L. Jackson was. The MAGAs were too weak and stupid, however. They barely stirred, recognizing the _type_ of voice Biden had (old, curmudgeonly white dude) while not recognizing its owner. In fact, I’m pretty sure none of them had even known who was running against Trump the whole time.

Harris raised her own bullhorn and said in a careful, even voice, “Please make way for the President of the United States.” She used the same tone she had when questioning a certain Supreme Court nominee, whose name shall go unmentioned here. The effect she had was not unlike that of the Voice of Saruman in the book The Lord of the Rings. Oh no, another Saruman reference? Surely I’m not foreshadowing a plot twist yet again?

Really, I’m not. You can trust me on this.

The Voice of Saruman successfully roused the MAGAs. Looking about for their Dear Leader, they instead saw the skirmish line of Not Avengers arrayed across the street. After several awkward minutes, they finally recognized them as Democrats.

_“Race traitors!”_ they screamed.

_“Minorities!”_ they hollered, though they couldn’t spell the word.

_“MAKE AMERICA GREAT,”_ they chanted, and then they worked themselves into a fury. But before they could overwhelm our heroes with their burning stupidity, Biden managed to remember his next lines.

“I hear a lot of pissed off folks around here.” The MAGAs stopped in their tracks, their attention grabbed by the power of OLD MAN WHITEY. “Well, here’s some real piss, straight from the balls of Donald Trump himself!”

Booker and Castro let loose with massive water guns, spraying warm, yellow fluid all over the MAGAs. It was just saltwater with yellow food coloring, but as the MAGAs had all lost their sense of smell, they became ecstatic all the same at being anointed with Trump’s unholy oil. Plus, they were too stupid to know that piss comes from bladders and not balls.

Each of the MAGAs started to shake violently. Their eyes bulged, and their faces turned red, as they experienced tantric orgasms so intense they literally shat, pissed, puked, and jizzed/squirted themselves to death. The sexual energy was so powerful, that they all turned to dust in a wave. Thus the last population on Earth possessed of COVID-19 was gone, and the world was saved.

Until next time.

***

Biden and the others moseyed on over to the front gate. They sidled on through, and stopped in front of the crystal barrier. Biden handed his sound cannon to Elizabeth Warren.

“Here you go, Senator.” Warren was far better with technical things, and I desired to give each character something crucial to do, so here it is for her. She fiddled with the device, then held it out in front of her face.

“I got this idea from all those K-pop fans trolling Trump’s rallies,” she explained unnecessarily. She pulled the trigger, and a medley of all of Twice’s best songs began to play, chosen because their positivity is perfect for shattering crystalline hatred.

The music produced destructive resonances within the crystal walls, and they vanished.

“You’re up, Bernie,” said Biden. Bernie flexed his comical old man arms in response.

***

By this time the Trumpinistas began to realize that perhaps something was genuinely wrong outside. One of the fools sent the Wanker Brigade out, but they had wasted all their real ammunition shooting at phantoms the previous week. No, really, I am retconning right this minute that some Democrats and Allies had used various image projection techniques to spook the hired guns, that’s why they all retreated to the bunker and not just because the Orange Lumpkin is a fucking coward. Anyway, they all came running out at once, and Bernie shot them rainbow with his airsoft gun, and well, they knew they would immediately be fired without pay if they went back inside, so they limped home and tried to get jobs committing war crimes in the rest of the world. How sad for them, but really, how sad that even if it all goes well in November (or close enough for our purposes) that there are still so many problems in the world that must be fixed. Why, it’s depressing enough for a person to give up on it all and spend their time writing dumb parodies about it instead.

Finally, the cavalcade of limp hard-ons ended its charge, and our heroes could enter the White House unscathed. As they passed the threshold, they noticed a sudden flickering shadow, and realized it was the last of Trump’s supporters fleeing like cockroaches. Only Bill Barr stood in the way of the inner sanctum. He wasn’t possessed like Roberts, either, he truly was irredeemable.

“Get out of our way, you son of a bitch!” growled Biden, in his one badass moment. He even used inclusive language, too! He really was being forced to the left by the progressive wing after all.

Barr faded to irrelevance, and our heroes pushed past him to the Inner Sanctum. There they found Trump looking remarkably smug.

“What the fuck are you grinning about?” asked Warren politely.

Trump opened his mouth and apotheosis oozed out.

“Zounds! He has the Reality Stone!” cried out Castro.

“But how? We’re not at the right point in the MCU timeline!” pointed out Booker.

“There’s no time to argue, folks!” Biden distracted Trump by doing that detachable thumb magic trick, and as the Orange Git stopped, slack-jawed, he reached over and snatched the Aether right out of his mouth.

“Time for another movie reference! Senator Harris, if you would, please!”

Harris pressed her hand against the Aether, willing it to take on a certain form.

“The Fifth Element is love!” she yelled.

The others piled on with their hands, and soon the Reality Stone took the form of a pink heart. They forced it into Trump’s chest, and he grew a conscience. All the shady crap he’d done his whole life, all the repressed PTSD caused by his father’s neglectful abuse, after all that _malarkey_ , he suddenly felt like a normal human being.

It made him implode.

“Good job, team!” said Biden. High fives were exchanged all around.

***

They moseyed on over to the Oval Office. John Roberts showed up a few minutes later to swear Biden in, having broken free of Trump’s fading necromantic power. Scalia’s spirit, however, was still attached to him, but invisible, so he had to spend the rest of Roberts’s life witnessing the Chief Justice mellow out over the years, who finally would finally see the value in (most) Democratic policies. Also, Scalia winds up tortured by the fact of never having become Chief Justice himself, so fuck ‘im.

As our heroes relaxed, congratulating themselves on a job well done, Biden started to look a little shifty. _Oh no, it’s the plot shift loosenoodlepoodledoodle foreshadowed_ , you think to yourself. But no, Biden just has a confession to make.

“Honestly, it’s too bad the Constitution has a minimum age requirement. If not, I probably would have voted for AOC.”

Everyone nods in agreement, as do you. Then you wake up, and realize it was all a dream, and it’s only the end of July, and we still have months of this horror to go, and with the way time has been relativistically compressed and stretched these last three years, surely by November (let alone January) you’ll have lived several lifetimes, trapped as you are in Inception’s Limbo like all other people of good heart.

_Ugh._

**Author's Note:**

>  _"This is the WORST parody I've ever read! NO! Don't say it's the only one I read, I don't know HOW to read! LIES! Everything I write is by a GHOST! Even the TWEETS! Except_ covfefe _, which, I'm sure my followers will PORTRAY someday SOON as a BOLD PREDICTION of the FUTURE! See, look at the first three letters! I WARNED everybody, but those LOSER Demo-prats covered it up with their ILLEGAL IMPEACHMENT WITCH HUNT! Now let's pay 'em back by IMPEACHMENT WITCH HUNTing them!"_  
>  —Anonymous Insider From The White House, And Totally Not Donald Trump Leaking All Over The Bedsheets, That's Russia's Job


End file.
